Question: Who hurt me?? Answer: Her name is mother.

Where to start with this one? I’m going to spill everything that is in my head. I’ve often been with my peers, discussing what they learned from their parents. I realize I have nothing to contribute. I know what I taught myself, and what I learned from friends, teachers, and others. But not my mom. From my mother, I learned what not to be. I learned that I could use religion to avoid accountability. I learned that having children would make me miserable. I would have to sacrifice my life for them, and I do not want that. I learned that I should never speak around people who have more money than I do. I learned to sacrifice myself for others’ happiness. Then I complained when they did not do the same for me. I felt good about being a martyr. I learned that my need would be met only if the person meant to fulfil it found my request acceptable. Since my needs were never palatable, I always lied to get them met. I learned to hate my father based on what she told me. Then I grew up and realized my dad likely suffered because of her. He didn’t know how to express it.

This woman asked me to get off my depression medication and pray the depression away.

Once, when I was 11, she came home from work. She found me cleaning the house. Then she said, “There’s no point in hiring house help. You’re my new house help.”

This woman always agreed to host some of our relatives. Then she complained and talked shit about them all the time.

This woman had a favourite child but would insist that she loved us equally. One time, she was complaining to me about her favourite child wasting money. I told her to stop giving the favourite child money. She agreed with me. The next day, I saw her giving money to her favourite child in secret so I didn’t see her doing it.

This woman asked me to continue staying in a home where my cousin had shown up drunk and asked me to have sex with him in his marital bed.

This woman never stopped infantilizing me until the day that I went no contact.

A few months before I went no contact, she kept saying that she wanted to visit me. Thinking about her being in my house gave me so much anxiety. I told her that I was not ready to have her as a guest. A few days later, she called and said, “Tell me where you live. I am coming to spend the night at your house.” I either blocked her or turned off my phone for days. She left the city. Only after she was gone did I felt safe.

Here are some winners from my experiences with my mum:

One time, she asked me for my results. I was in my second semester on campus. Out of 7 units, I had six As and one D. I was very proud of my As, and I felt like I was getting my shit together. She said to me, “I see you have started getting Ds again.”

After I finished my coursework and got a prestigious internship, I was a little scared to tell her. I was right to be. She sneered and asked if I would take the prestigious internship or the one she was planning to bribe her friend for. I was conflicted as I also hoped that she would be proud of me.

Whenever we went shopping.

If I liked it and she did not like it, she would not buy it. If she bought it, she would pout about it and find a way to punish me later for making her buy me something that she did not like. This punishment would be in the form of passive-aggressive statements that attack me as a person.
If she liked it and I liked it, she would look at me skeptically, wondering if I was lying about liking it and if I would wear it at all.
If I hated it and she liked/loved it, she would buy it and force me to wear it.

One time when she had visitors, I cooked all the food because she had a broken leg, and all her guests were friends. While serving the food, she saw that the chicken stew did not have as much soup as she had expected. She saw a chance to embarrass me about my cooking. It would also distance her from anything to do with food prep.

Whenever I introduced my friends to her, she was an angel. She would give them money. My friends would then call me a dick if I acted in any way that made them think I didn’t appreciate having a mother.

What was with the crazy amount of phone calls? I would finally call back. She only wanted to say hi and interrogate me about where I was and what I was doing that had me too busy to pick up her calls as if I was 2 years old. Looking back, this woman has never acknowledged that I grew up and I have a brain of my own.

This woman would choose to travel to my high school visiting days on the same day. She would arrive late enough that I could not see her. I would cry the whole day as I waited for her, and even when I got permission to see her for about 5 minutes, I would be sobbing, and we would have no time to chat.

She once gave me 100 dollars to buy a dress and shoes for a wedding (so that I do not embarrass her) while refusing to give my sister 10 dollars for medication.

She would always blame witchcraft and the devil. This allows her to avoid accountability for her actions, intended or not.

I once told her that I was taking a break from talking to her via phone calls. This was after I realized that all she wanted to do was complain but not fix the problem. She went straight to victim mode, asking me, “When have I ever offended you for you not to want to talk to me.”

She often spoke about how she was a clean person and loved fine things, but then would poo and not flush the toilet. When I called her out on it, she would tell me to flush it for her and to stop making a big deal out of it. Ew.

She would come to me to talk shit about my sister and brother, and then go to my sister and brother to talk shit about me.

My entire life involved her minimizing my feelings, emotions, and accomplishments.

One time, she forced me to go to an event with her. I knew no one at this event. I ended up spending most of the time reading a book on my phone. When we got back home, she asked me about the event and why I was not talking to people. I told her that I had trouble socializing because I was an introvert. She then said that introverts don’t exist. She thinks I’m pretending to be one to avoid talking to people. My behaviour is embarrassing her.

She always got mad at me for locking my room when I went home during the pandemic. She wanted an open-door policy to my room. One time, she banged the door so hard that the lock broke. When she got in, she had a look on her face that said, “That is what you get for locking me out.” I felt unsafe. I felt helpless.

Her favourite line was, “I am too old to change. You have to love me as I am.” Expecting unconditional love while providing conditional love is insane.

It would be so weird whenever I was having a bad day because I was not allowed to show any negative emotions on my face. She would make me fix my face because my emotions were making her uncomfortable.

How can I forget the inferiority complex she had around people that were richer and smarter than her. She would also expect us to join her in the activities her inferiority complex induced. These included not breathing the same air as the rich and not sitting in the same room as them, as it would be disrespectful. She would later brag to those she deemed inferior. She was in the same room with superior people.

I think this should be obvious. But, I’ll add it here: She would be emotionally intelligent with other people’s children, but never with her own.

I don’t think this woman thought about what it means to be a parent and what kind of parent she wants to be.

Have you ever met someone whose arousal peaks when her children are in danger? It becomes her moment to shine and save the day. Then, she holds her saviour status over you for life. Independent children are the biggest threat to my mother. She feeds on her children’s failures.

I am currently in no contact with her and her relatives. She could not believe I went no contact. She travelled to my city and asked our relatives to call and message me. One of the messages started with “What is this behaviour…..” I laugh about this now, but this experience gave me a heart attack. The same person who asked “What is this behaviour…” is the same uncle who was borrowing my mother’s money. My mother sent him the money, then told me, “I don’t have your school fees because I gave your uncle money.”

Looking back, I have always wanted to go no contact with this woman since I was in high school. I wanted to pay her back for all she spent on me. Then, she would stop complaining about her sacrifices for me. Did she not know what parenthood entailed when she was getting babies???

Because she failed in every other way as a parent, I saw her only as someone who gave me money.

I have no good memories if this woman because even her good deeds came at the cost of my soul.

The niece with a mouth that tasted like onions

Before you go crazy, well, you can go crazy. I can’t stop you anyway. This is about my niece, who is the same age as I am. I am only one month older than she is. My mum and my cousin happened to be pregnant at the same time.

These shenanigans that began while I was 5 must be the longest relationship that I have ever had. We fucked in my parents’ house. In her parents’ house. In my uncle’s/her grandfather’s house during the Christmas holiday. In my grandmother’s/her great-grandmother’s house during the Christmas holiday. I was around 13 and we had discovered tribbing. The way I went at it until I had an orgasm makes me wonder why I never considered myself a lesbian until now. One time she visited me at the university. We drank an entire bottle of gin. When we fell asleep, she tried to kiss me. That was the first time that I felt disgusted about it and pretended that I was too drunk to do anything. I also couldn’t stand the taste of onion in my mouth. I now realize that it was unfair for me to compare the taste of her mouth with the other mouths that I had kissed.

We would do all these intimate things, but we have never talked about it. Imagine fight club rules but replace Fight Club with “Aunt and Niece Fuckery.”

One time I visited her at her house. She had a job while I was back at school. I wanted to be at her place for 7 days but I left after 5 days. One morning, I went to the salon that was close to her house to get my hair braided. On the way back home, I met a man who declared that I had universal beauty and we exchanged numbers like most adults do. He called me out for a few drinks in the afternoon. He sent me directions to the restaurant/pub. It was about 4 pm. I planned to head back home at around 7 pm. But the company was a little too good (don’t trust me on this because I was drunk and had on goggles with a patriarchal lens). When it got to around 7 pm, I sent a text saying I was out and I would be a little late. I don’t remember whether I received a reply.

After my drunk self felt as though I had had enough fun, I decided to head home. It was around 9 pm. Also, that man had started telling me how he had applied for a loan. He planned to send me some of it once it got approved. Sir? I don’t think that is what you do with a loan. Not when you have a wife and a child/children (I can’t remember if it was one or more than one).

I arrived home safe. When I got home, I knocked on the door. My niece’s stepsister came to the door, peeped through the curtain, saw me, closed the curtain, and called my niece. My niece came and opened the door. I got in and said hi but did not get a response. In my head, “I am tipsy but this atmosphere is fishy.” She says there’s food in the kitchen. But the fishy atmosphere tells me to go to my room and be quiet. I should walk on eggshells so no one notices I’m in the house. I felt relief that I had my room. I packed all my things and planned to leave the next day. At some point, she came and knocked on my door and said, “Don’t try that shit in my house.” I spent the night wondering, “What shit is she talking about? Should I have not left the house? I texted her to let her know that I was late, so what’s the problem? Should I have asked for permission like a good little child before leaving the house? Is she jealous because I have fucked her the entire time that I was here? Should I fuck her? If I fuck her, will her anger disappear? Gosh! I don’t think I can stand the onion mouth. Is the onion mouth girl angry? She should worry about her onion mouth, not infantilizing an adult. Why is she talking to me like I am her child? Perhaps her boyfriends have been leaving her because of the onion mouth. It’s no wonder. She’s dating people’s husbands, who are as old as her father. She thinks she’s too mature for men her age. Why did I bother being there for her when she thought she was pregnant? I was willing to help her get a safe abortion. I had already had two successful abortions. Fuck it! I will delete her number after blocking her and never talk to her again.” The next morning, I woke up early, took a shower, and left for the bus stop to go to school while she left for work. Why the hell did she follow me to the bus stop? I had deleted her number and blocked her the previous night. She helped me get a ticket and walked me to the van. Before I got in, she lectured me about how much she cares and that’s why she behaved that way. “You fucking bitch. You fucked up the moment you used a juvenile tone. You can’t treat me like a child and expect me to take you seriously. Also, stop wasting your time because you and I will never cross paths again. “I have deleted you from my brain.””

We crossed paths two more times against my will. I was at the hospital when my 70s uncle had a heart attack after using drugs at a party to keep up with some young people. I felt good after she asked what I was up to. Upon hearing of my work for a top international organization, she wanted to know how I got in and how I could help her do the same. I told her that I applied and got hired, which is the truth, but she thought I was trying to avoid helping her. Fast-forward to 2 years later, I am at a theatre and someone taps my back. I turn to see her and my mouth goes like, “What the hell!” She responds, “Yeah, that is the exact expression that you should be having.” It is a good thing that I was tipsy and happy that day; otherwise, I would not have given her the time of day. Where did this bitch get the audacity to tell question me about why I had stopped talking to my mother???? She then asked me to call her and invite her to my place so that she would not snitch on me. I agreed to all that, knowing so well that I would do none of that. She also told me to call my mum because she is going crazy. That’s when I realized how little I cared for my family. My decision to go no contact was more serious than I thought. I even know that my family members will die one day, and I also know that I will not be attending any of their funerals. For my funeral, I would like my friends to go on holiday to somewhere fancy to discard my ashes after I am cremated.

My paedo teacher

I have written a lot today. After enough ranting on Tumblr, I have come here to rant some more. It feels a lot safer than talking to anyone and anyway, the most stable relationship I have had in my life is with my brain. I always talk about my brain as though it is a separate entity. Do any of you feel the same too?

This rant will be about community. No, it won’t. I just realised that I haven’t internalised or processed whatever I would like to say or write about community so, we shall leave that for another day.

Today, let’s make a stop at the “Age 11” village on my trauma map:

When I was 11, my math teacher would call to the back of the class after class. he would be seated and I would be standing. He would then hold my waist and pull me close to him and then pounce on my lips for a very deep French kiss. This happened a couple of times and I never thought it to be a problem. Perhaps that was what happens when you are a perfect student and get all As, like a reward. One night, I mentioned it to one of my friends and she was horrified, she told me that I should report it and that she would take me and support me through the entire process. The next day, she and I went to the principal’s office, she held my hand the entire time and helped me whenever I couldn’t speak. When I was done, the paedophile was called into the office. That piece of shit in true paedophile fashion denied everything and my friend and I were thoroughly whipped. if you grew up with African parents, you definitely know what I mean when I say ‘thoroughly whipped’. Gladys, wherever you are, I would like to say, “Thank you for being my strength that day. Thank you for still being my friend and trusting me even after you got punished for it. I have and will always remember and think of you. I hope all the little girls out there find their own Gladys.” Gladys was blamed for negatively influencing me to lie solely because I was a top student and she was always close to the bottom. I still have hate in my heart for that paedophile and principal.

I learnt a lesson that day. The lesson was that I should allow men to do with my body as they will because if I don’t I will be punished. My body count is really high thanks to this.

I went to therapy guys and I don’t think like that anymore and I can also draw dicks of all shapes, sizes and colours. Then I turned 30 and realised that I love women and I am gay as hell.

Till we meet again. Mwaah!

[I wanna start calling myself PawsitivelyMeaow. Should I?]

Am I going MAD!!!!

I wanna cut off my tits and uterus and give them to someone that actually needs them but I am broke and no doctor will remove my uterus until I turn 35 because I guess I will be a fossil then and no male will want my eggs anymore. I want to scream my heart out at the top of a mountain. My finances are shit because I spent money hanging out with people that I do not like that much (I used to like them but not anymore) drinking alcohol that I did not want to drink and now 5 days after the alcohol drinking, I am still having anxiety and feeling ashamed of myself.

Unmasking is hard. I realised that all the friends I have are people who approached me and stayed because I never really chased them away. Now, I am dealing with learning how much they enjoy the positives of my brain but punish me for all the negatives.

I guess to them I am just seeking attention with this white people’s disease. How can I be autistic when I have been able to function in society for the past 32 years. Well, welcome to masking. Thank you for dismissing my experience while making me feel like the only way I can keep you in my life is if I continue masking.

The only difference between my masked and unmasked self is that when I was masked, I was alone with people but now, I am alone with myself. I like being alone with myself.

I am typing real fast hoping to let out all the word diarrhoea that is coming out of my head in the hopes that I will feel a lot less anxious but all that is happening so far is me being aware of what I am feeling but still an anxious human.

Well, therapy is expensive, so, here I am ranting….and also, therapists are humans and sometimes, they fail to separate their beliefs from their practice which I have found to be very dangerous.

Anyway, I hope y’all are having a better day than me. Thanks for reading my rant. When you read it, I felt like I was being hugged all the way back in Nairobi Kenya. Toodle. Mwaah!

The nipples situation

Chebet: Baby, lease cook for me today.

New girlfriend: Only if you let me suck on your tits later….

Chebet: You can suck on one tit.

New girlfriend: Then I guess I will make half a meal….

Chebet: [puppy eyes unleashed] You can suck on both tits

New girlfriend: A full meal will be ready for you in about an hour, my dear girlfriend.

Kyllan: Would you like me to look up information on how to treat sore nipples? I can also examine them if you want.

Konan: No need you pervy robot. I have ointment from my planet that will help.

New girlfriend: That alien titty is quite helpful.

Konan: I do have a name human.

New girlfriend: I am sorry Konan. Thank you for taking care of my girlfriend’s nipples. I guess you being a giant boob has its advantages.

Konan: Just stop biting her nipples too hard you cannibal.

New girlfriend: mmmmh…but she tastes so sweet

Konan: I agree

Kyllan: Shall I set up a party to celebrate Chebet’s nipples?

Chebet: Would you all please stop talking about my nipples.

Baby Gay Thoughts

When I open Tiktok, my FYP is so exclusively gay that by the time I exit the app, I have forgotten that there are straight individuals. I simply adore women, and my FYP makes it possible for me to do so.

Anyhow, I recently had a fascinating conversation with the voices in my head. My closeted gay self-harming activity was having sex with males. Never did I enjoy it as much as I do sex with ladies. I had a task to complete. I would lie down and let him take care of himself. I appreciated anyone who ejaculated 5 minutes within penetration, sometimes they apologised for the short-lived experience. While they were sorry, I was relieved. I would eagerly respond “yes” when they asked if I had an orgasm so they wouldn’t penetrate me again in an effort to satisfy me. I was going to pleasure myself as soon as I was alone. I also thought semen was quite filthy, so even though I’ve had an IUD for approximately five years, I still rushed to the bathroom to flush the fluid out of my vagina before taking a shower. Sometimes I would just let them use a condom and not bring up the IUD. I once puked when someone attempted to ejaculate in my mouth. I however genuinely enjoyed kissing and cuddling.

During intercourse, my thoughts frequently wandered. Here are some thoughts I can recall:

Perhaps if I squeeze my vagina he will finish quickly.
What face is that?
Let me moan a little so that I can look enthusiastic.
Should I suggest doggy so he doesn’t look at my face?
What is he doing? Should I stop him?

The males are not horrible in bed, contrary to what I had previously believed; penetration simply doesn’t work for me. Additionally, I never allow them to suck me off since the one time I did, the person was so aggressive that I felt irritated the next time I had to urinate.

Enjoy your week my dear reader and thank you for stopping by. You are appreciated.

I learnt a new Skill today

I did some plumbing.

I elected to take a shot of coffee after choosing not to go to the office because I woke up late. This made me suddenly want to go poo. Given that it has been three days since my last pooping, whatever came out clogged my toilet. I was unable to drink any water as a result since I was unable to flush the toilet effectively. I requested a visit from the building’s caretaker over the phone. I went online to look for a do-it-yourself technique to unclog my toilet after an hour passed without him turning up. I discovered a solution that required dish soap and water. I continued flushing the toilet with 1.7 litres of hot water and dish soap for nearly two hours. I had around 80% confidence that the procedure had succeeded after two hours. I used the plunger to erase the 20% uncertainty. When I finally flushed the toilet, it was operating flawlessly. I am pleased with myself and now I can drink all the water I want.

To make sure everything is operating as it should, let me go urinate.

My Special Neighbor

She is my neighbour from my previous apartment.

She moved into that apartment a month after me. We never really met for a while because as an introvert, I strategically only leave the house when there is no chance of me meeting any of my neighbours.

The first time we met, I was from the mall and was a tad bit tipsy. I passed her door before getting to mine. Her door was open and she had a party. My tipsy self thought it would be a good idea to go say hi at that moment. I didn’t lock my door because, for some reason, my brain thought that the anxiety that ensues from leaving my door open would stop me from spending too much time at the party.

I knock on her already open door and she receives me. I introduce myself as her neighbour. Turns out she already knew that. She invites me for a few shots. I get in, and one of her guests offers me his space on the couch, she brings me tequila and shot glasses and introduces me to the immediate guests.

I take a few shots and wanted to leave but she insists that I stay. I promise to go lock my door and be back. I go lock my door and join the party immediately after. The introvert in me showed up with cigarettes. I don’t mind cigarettes but I don’t particularly enjoy smoking them. They come in handy when I need a break from humans at a party. It’s easier for people to understand “I am going to smoke at the balcony” compared to “I am going to the balcony because there is no one there and I need space from humans”.

After a few minutes of saying hi to people I did not know, I go to smoke. A gentleman joins me, he was smoking so I did not mind his presence. 10 minutes later, I decided to cut my night short and go sleep since the conversation I was having with my balcony mate involved him trying to figure out what was wrong with me as a woman.

I go say bye to my neighbour and she decides to walk me to my house and hug me goodnight.

Fast forward to two weeks later, she invites me for dinner and drinks. We get to know more about each other. We are both developers. We laugh about my resting bitch face that stopped her from ever saying hi to me whenever she saw me. She tells me that I am nicer in person which makes me smile. When the drinks kick in, she tells me that I am hot and respectfully asks if she can kiss me.

Is she beautiful? Yes. Is she hot? Yes. Is she smart? Yes Is she sexy? Yes. Does she have a beautiful personality? Yes. Am I attracted to her? Yes. SO, WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY “NO” WHEN SHE ASKED TO KISS ME!!!

Now the thought of kissing her is in my head and that is all I can think about. After about an hour, she asked if she could kiss me again. I nodded yes and our faces very naturally moved closer to each other. I got lost in that kiss. Everything disappeared. She was the only thing that existed. I have never had a kiss that passionate and that intense that all my problems disappeared.

With both her hands on my neck, she detaches slowly from my lips, her hands still in place, she looks at me and asks me to spend the night. I nod again because however much I tried, I could not let the word “yes” out of my mouth even though all I wanted to do was scream it for the whole world to hear.

We went to bed, and she helped me remove my clothes, made sure I was comfortable and then she got on top of me. I was not prepared for this. All she needed me to do was lie down and spread my legs. She had toys that I had never seen before. I lost myself in her which is something I had never done while having sex with a man. I felt safe. I felt special. That night, she existed to pleasure me. This feeling was foreign to me and I loved it. Sex with a woman hits differently.

She was happy to go on all night but for some reason, I felt guilty. I did not deserve that level of pleasure without giving anything in return. We cuddled all night and she made me juice in the morning which was quite helpful with my hangover.

She was the most overwhelming experience I have ever had.

I am not equipped to handle you in your current state

Sunday morning

Babe: “Hey, babe! Do you want to watch Spiderman tomorrow morning?”

Me: “Yes, I would love to. It will be a nice way to spend my last day on holiday before getting back to work”

Monday morning

I am awake by 7 am. I start preparing at a snail’s pace. The movie starts at 10 am so I should be out of the house by 9 am. I check on him via text and he responds confirming the date.

I make it to the mall in time. I carried Machiavelli’s The Prince so I could keep myself busy in case I got there before him. He showed up a few minutes after me so I was only able to read a few sentences which I would have to reread when I get back home because I notice that there is too much in my head and I feel sad yet I do not know why.

As soon as I see him, I smile then stand up to meet him halfway and hug him as he plants a little kiss on my lips. We walk to the counter to buy our tickets, hot dogs, popcorn and fizzy drinks. I notice that I did not carry my 3D glasses. I ask the cashier how much a pair costs. My babe tells me to hold up a bit because he might have carried two pairs of glasses. He checks his bag just to realize that he carried 0.

“Babe, will you also get me a pair?” He asks and I agree to get him a pair. I get my debit card and give it to the cashier. He charges my card, I key in my pin and take my card, the 3D glasses that I just bought and my receipt. I look at my receipt and I see the cashier has charged everything on my card, the tickets, food and glasses. At this point, my babe starts walking away from the counter and cancels the mobile money payment process that he had begun on his phone.

I follow babe and we sit as we wait for our movie to start in about 15 minutes. I notice that he is a lot more touchy and keeps telling me how much he loves me. He said more “I love you”s in 15 minutes than he ever has in a week (I have to make it clear that this is not hyperbole). My biggest concern right now is “why don’t I want to tell him that I love him back?” and is this normal to him given that I always tell him that I love him back???

After the movie, we go to his place to have lunch. He tries getting me naked but I am not into it so we settle for cuddling. He asks me to spend the night and I tell him that I can’t because I have to be in the office quite early the next day. Our food is delivered. We get out of bed, and he helps me dress up and recognises my depressed demeanour which I stupidly apologise for and was immediately disgusted with myself for doing it.

While having lunch, I ask him about traffic and what time would be great for me to go home if I did not want to deal with traffic. He mentions that 4 pm and 8 pm are the best times. I choose 8 pm because I generally prefer darkness. That was when he said, “I think you should leave right now because I am not equipped to handle you in your current state.”

I left indeed…..I left physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually and sexually.

It all went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”

Tinder might be a great way for me to talk to people other than the two constant friends I have in my life. I sign up and upload pictures of my beautiful face that I consider cool. I pay for a subscription because I am curious with regards to knowing who has swiped me right. They might just be my type of weird.

After a few days of swiping, I match with Michael. He does not have a picture of himself, but I did like the artwork that he used in place of his face.

The first thing he said to me was “From your taste in music, I can already tell that I will like you”. This intrigues me immediately because he is the second human I have met who knows the names Thomas Bergesen, Brian Tyler, Hans Zimmer, Soundcritters, Two Steps from Hell, Efisio Cross, Alan Silvestri, Steve Jablonsky etc. I am glad to have connected my Spotify to tinder.

We talk about music from the movies that we enjoy. He spoke about nostalgic ecstasy in reference to his listening to music that used to be his favourite at some point. I borrowed the phrase “nostalgic ecstasy” and renamed one of my playlists from “nostalgia” to “nostalgic ecstasy”. This is a list of songs that I listened to at some point in my life and drained the songs off all their neurotransmitters.

We chat about Christopher Nolan, reading, and writing. We talk about my blog Kyllan and Chebet, I share the link with him, he asks to be included in my adventures with Kyllan and Konan. I agree and draft a story that introduces Michael to the family.

He once called me “my fair maiden” and I stupidly responded to that with “sploosh! frothy loins”. At this point, he debates whether to be quaint and proper or unleash his wildest fantasies on me. He chose to go with the latter. It was at this point that I realised I had fucked up.

So, I did what I always do whenever I freak out. I deleted tinder and moved on with my life and made peace with speaking to only 3 people: my two friends and me.

A few days later, I get a comment on the blog post that introduced Michael to the family. The comment was of concern. He was afraid that he might have lost me and he included his email address where I could reach him.

I reached out via email and we exchanged numbers. The ensuing days included an exchange of messages that had me permanently horny and smiling. This dude whose face I had never seen was stirring up emotions in me that I had not felt in a very long time. He asked if he could invite me to go work in his offices on one of the days that I would be working from home. We had to cancel this because my country had elections around that time and we have a history of post-election violence. Safety was key.

A few days after the elections and everything looked peaceful, he had a free afternoon and asked if we could hang out. I tell him that I was working from a restaurant and that he can come to join me there and we can have coffee. I was not as excited about this as I thought I should be. After telling him to join me at the restaurant, he responds “I was thinking more of cuddles and watching movies at your place.”

My vagina has never dried up so fast. I responded with a single “NO”. I then proceeded to delete his number and do some research on him. Our lovely Michael is actually called Victor and he doesn’t look like the kind of dude I would be attracted to if only looks is what we were going for. I quickly deleted the blog post that introduced Michael to the family and deleted all our correspondence (emails and text messages). My mind went on overdrive. Did he think that I was going to allow a strange man into my bed, all over my space and touching my skin? What if he cuddles me to death? What if he is a petty thief? He could be a serial killer. He must be a whore to think that it was okay for him to suggest that. He probably has a lot of unprotected sex. Eww! I am disgusted just thinking about it.

He sent a message a few days later apologizing for thinking that it was okay to want to come to my house just like that. He also asked if our relationship was damaged beyond repair. I responded with a single “YES”. He then sent an essay which basically was another apology, him saying that it was a privilege knowing me, that he is mad at himself for spoiling things, that he respects me and that he will never bother me again. I didn’t respond to this one.

A few days later, he bothered me again while I was on my eighth tequila shot. I don’t remember what I said to him but he has never bothered me again. He’s since been successfully deleted from my life.

In retrospect, things went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”. I will not be saying that to men ever again.